Virginia and her sister Ursula are my mostintimate friends. Virginia—really quite a harmlessgirl—imagines she has a scientific bias.Ursula—domesticated to the backbone—led astrenuous life in the pursuit of experimentalpsychology, till she switched off to wash hospitalsaucepans.
It will be so obvious that I scarcely needadd: What little common sense the trio possessesis centred in ME.
Abigail is my housemaid; her title to fameis the fact that she is the only servant I haveever been able to induce to remain more thana fortnight at one stretch in the country. Theothers, including those who are orphans, alwayshave a parent who suddenly breaks its leg—afterthey have been about ten days away—and wiresfor them to come home at once.
The cook has discovered a number of cousinsin the Naval Division at the Crystal Palace(detachments of which pass my London househourly, while many units partake of my cakeand lemonade), and, of course, you can’t neglectyour relatives in war time.
“You never know whether that’ll be the lasttime you’ll see them,” she says, waving a tearfultea-towel at all and sundry who march past.Naturally, she doesn’t care to be away fromtown for many days at a time.
The parlourmaid was interested in a memberof the L.C.C. Fire Brigade, when he enlisted,and incidentally married someone else—unfortunatelythe very week she was away with me.This has given her a marked distaste for thesimple pleasures of rural life.
Abigail is unengaged. “What I ask is:What bet